Oedipus
by Irene McKee
Summary: DG. Everyone makes mistakes. Some people are just better at escaping the consequences... through three centuries at least. Long live the king.
1. Little Boys

**Disclaimer-** Yeah, I'm completely delusional and think I own Harry Potter and all the elements it contains. Suuuuuuuure... Really, it's not mine. Also, Walt Whtiman's poem _Oh, Captain! My Captain!_ does not belong to me as well.

**Author's Note**- I've finally returned to the world of fan fiction after a very long, long vacation. I honestly thought I never would return, but this story would not let my fingers sit still. There is one wonderful, wonderful person who made this possible and that is my fantastic beta, Jessica. So everyone, praise her and give her cookies for she is truly amazing. Also, I would really, really appreciate it if you took the time to review and give your two cents- constructive criticism is greatly appreciated and I will give you cookies for it. Or just review to say what you thought- anything, short or long, it's all cool. Enjoy!

**xxx**

OEDIPUS  
_Little Boys _

"All men are brothers, like the seas throughout the world;  
So why do winds and waves clash so fiercely everywhere?"

- Emperor Hirohito

**xxx**

She had been perched on the kitchen sill when Fred's shadow darkened the parchment of her book. It was evening now and she had been sitting there on the window bench all day, idly turning the pages as they went. She had even left the drapes open, enjoying the sight of the December snowfall and gratefully had not been disturbed all day- not until now, that is.

"What?" Ginny asked, looking up at Fred. His hair, she noticed, bright as ever, needed trimming and there was a spot of dirt on his nose. She thought for a moment to say something, but the thought passed quickly out of her head. There were probably a thousand things about her appearance he could point out and she honestly did not feel the need to open that door.

"Come get some wood with me. Mum's trying to build up a fire before the meeting."

"Isn't there some by the grate?" she asked, knowing very well there was. Just beside the great kitchen fireplace was an empty niche used specifically for every piece of wood they came across. Remus often went out into the small set of woods surrounding the Manor to chop some more- to clear his head, he would say- and therefore, Ginny had never seen the alcove empty.

Then again, Remus was probably tucked away in an unused room somewhere, taking his final sips of potion as he waited for the moon to rise. Maybe he hadn't had time these past few days to clear his head.

"Mrs. Longbottom used the last of it this morning. Mum said she can't stand the chill. She hasn't left her room all day."

"You sound surprised," she commented dryly, putting her book aside and rising slowly. Mrs. Longbottom was what Ginny believed to be a true night owl and it was more than once that she and Fred had whispered to each other about her odd habits. A vampire, they called her, when Neville and their parents weren't around to overhear.

"Well, it's not like the sun is out," Fred said, peering through the window. He was right. The sun hadn't made an appearance for over two days now, clouds covering the sky. But it was just this morning that Ginny had woken up to snow, and she had been excited. "I thought she might be on the prowl- looking for fresh blood and whatnot."

Ginny grinned, walking over to the kitchen entryway. On one side of the small corridor was a pantry and on the other, coat pegs. Throwing Fred's graying cloak at him, she said, "Scared?"

"Terrified."

"You should be," Ginny said, shrugging on her own yellow cloak and wrapping an old Gryffindor scarf around her neck. "She's never liked you much."

"The poor old bat. She's just jealous."

Ginny snorted, "Of what?"

"My devilish good looks, of course."

The comment was meant to be a joke, but Ginny's smile faded a bit because of it. She was looking at Fred now, and to be honest, there was nothing entirely devilish about him, at least not anymore. He used to have that wicked sparkle in his eyes and to some extent, it was still there. But now, more than anything else, she saw the purple smudges below his lids and his thin wiry fingers poking out of ripped gloves. They had always been poor, but Molly Weasley had always made sure her children looked presentable. No rips or tears and no sole-less shoes. Fred had all of these things and unfortunately, Ginny did too.

"I don't know, Fred. With a few new pints of fresh blood, that old bat could be giving you a run for your money."

"Not if we fed her Lupin."

Ginny snorted again. "Like that would- actually, what do you think would happen if we did that?"

"I honestly have no idea. Maybe she'll become some new breed of dark magical creature like a vampwolf or a werepire."

"Oh, how clever- crunching words together."

"Or maybe she'll catch us totally off our guard and turn into a unicorn."

"That's absurd."

"And we could use the old bat turned unicorn for breeding. We could have our own unicorn farm-"

"Never mind, why didn't I think of that?"

"And slowly the old bat turned unicorn will lead us towards a profitable income-"

"Oh yes, very logical."

"With which we can flee to Russia!"

"Yipee! The bitter and nasty climate of Siberia is so much better than that of jolly old England!" Ginny added sarcastically, waiting for Fred's next installment of the plan. Instead, he remained quiet a moment.

"I'd say anything's better than jolly old England at this point."

Ginny tried to look at him, but ended up just staring at the ground instead. She knew better than anyone else how Fred felt, shut up in this mausoleum. She had thought Grimmauld Place was bad, but at least the others had been there- Harry, Ron, Hermione, Tonks… George. The thought tugged at her composure.

"Aw, come on, Fred, it's not so bad," Ginny lied. He knew she was lying too.

"Of all of us, I was always sure you'd be the last to say that."

She tried to laugh it off, but failed miserably. And now she was looking at the floor again. Silence had descended upon the two until Fred finally opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by the shriek of one Molly Weasley.

"Fred! The wood!"

"I'm going! I'm going!" Fred shouted in the direction of her voice, then turning his gaze back to his sister. "Let's have an adventure shall we?"

Reaching down to pick up the seasoned axe resting up against the doorframe, she gave as strong a smile as she could. "Where to, oh captain, my captain?"

"To the smallest tree we can find!" he exclaimed, opening the door for his sister. Then he added, as though it were a secret, "I've never chopped down a tree in my life."

"We'll aren't we a winning pair? Neither have I." And then, there was snow. She had plunged into the great white sea, feeling the flaked wind stinging at her nose as precipitation clung to her eyelashes. She could feel the grin rising across her cheeks. Snow. Real, shining snow. She poked her tongue out between her chapped lips like she did when she was a little girl, spinning around as the snow fell its way into her coppery hair.

"Gin!" Fred called from where he was shutting the door, "Didn't your mum ever tell you what a bad idea it was to run with an axe in hand?"

She stopped, looking down at the tool in her hands and laughing, extended it to her brother. "You take it then. I wouldn't know what to do with it anyways."

"Gladly." He took the axe and pointed out into the thick horizon of trees surrounding the yard. "Why don't we try over there- Ginny did you just throw a snowball at me?"

"What? Me? Why I never-"

"Because really Gin-girl, two can play that game."

"But honestly, Fred, I don't know what you mean!"

Ploof. The axe fell to the ground and a snowball was flying through the air. Ginny laughed as she ducked, dodging to the side as another whizzed by her head, "You'll never catch me alive!" she shouted, throwing another snowball at her brother, but he was already sprinting towards her, picking up more snow as he went.

"Don't underestimate me, Gin!"

Ginny screeched as a snowball hit the back of her neck, snow wedging itself in her scarf and dripping down her neck. She turned to pelt another at Fred over her shoulder, but he had stopped. He was standing there, still as a statue and looking at the sky.

Suddenly, a wild shot rang through the air, sounding very much like a Muggle bullet. Ginny shrieked and jumped, trying to find what her brother was looking at. Another shot and then Ginny too saw it in the air- a stream of yellow sparks shooting through the cloudy sky- distress.

Fear enclosed a cold fist around her heart.

"Ginny," she heard Fred yelling at her, "get Mum- tell Mum!"

She nodded at him dumbly, looking back at the sky. "Go!" he yelled again and she was off, running hard towards the Manor. But the snow had fallen thick and heavy, and the going was slow. Over her footsteps, she heard another shot and shouting- lots of shouting. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw figures coming through the trees and she could feel the fear rising in her chest. The snow was too concentrated to make them out. Her breathing was heavy and her heart was pounding, adding a new sprint to her step as she rushed towards the door. She was running and running but then suddenly she was falling. She'd tripped on a fallen branch and she pushed her hands out in front of her to break the land.

Pain shot through her body and she saw red against the snow. She had tripped, but not on a fallen branch. She could see the gleam of her own blood in the metal, making her reflection dark and twisting. Wildly, she looked back again still seeing the figures coming closer. Adrenaline pumped throughout her body. Clutching her hand, she stumbled to her feet and ran again- harder than ever until she reached the kitchen door with a thud.

"Mum!" she screamed. More running. She dashed through the house, water, blood, and snow trailing behind her. "MUM!"

Molly caught her in the dining room where she was trying to fix up the fireplace. There was going to be an Order meeting there tonight, Ginny knew, but now she wasn't sure.

"Ginny, what is it? What happened to your hand?"

Breathless and croaking, she answered, "Distress signal- in the yard. There are people coming- lots of people."

"Where's Fred?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, already on her way out, wand held firmly in her hand. Ginny followed.

"Outside."

"Who else is out there? Who's coming?"

"People- I don't know who. I couldn't see- the snow, it was too thick- and they were in the trees."

The pair had reached the kitchen and without a cloak or even mittens, Molly stumbled into the frozen yard. Ginny, still close behind, could just make out the shadows coming towards them- five, maybe six- and they were all moving quickly, desperately towards them.

Please, she prayed, let it be them, let it be the Order.

But deep inside her, somewhere she didn't like to go, she prayed it was someone else. She prayed it would be the end. Because if that was the Order running at them and that distress signal belonged to the Order, something had gone horribly wrong.

And when things went horribly wrong, people died.

She thought it was Fred she saw first, heading the group, but it wasn't. It was her father, tall and foreboding in the wave of snow. She could feel her mother's tension break beside her. "Arthur!" Molly shrieked, scampering towards her husband.

"Molly, quick, get inside. We've got an injury."

The two women rushed back into the house, Arthur close behind. He held open the flimsy door as he shouted at the girls.

"Molly, put a kettle on! We need hot water- and bandages! Ginny clear off the table! Quickly!"

They wasted no time, Ginny throwing every scrap of food and spare utensil into a corner, wiping down the worn wood with her mother's apron, thrown over a chair. As her mother fuddled around the stove and bureaus, Ginny pushed the great benches beneath the table, making room to stand around it. She had done this before- twice.

Mad-Eye was the first person to enter after her father, scuttling over to the hearth. "There's no wood!"

"Fred's getting it," Arthur said as Hestia Jones hurried in. It was not a second later that she had flung open the pantry, leafing through the herbs and potions there, laying them out on the counter.

"There's no hellebore, either!" Hestia said, still rummaging.

"Yes there is," Molly said, "Ginny, upstairs, in the bathroom mirror, there's a package of hellebore."

"Going!" Blood was still running down her arm, but she moved deftly through the house and found the ingredient quickly. It slipped in her bloody hands. Stopping for a moment, she tore a ribbon off her cloak and wrapped it around her throbbing palm. It would have to do for now.

When she arrived in the kitchen, someone she didn't recognize was lying on the tabletop, trembling. It was a man- a boy perhaps- and the white shirt he wore was cut and stained. The holes were so big that she could see the skin below- or what remained of it. Large gashes ran up and down his torso and blood poured from a cut on his head. His right arm looked broken and she could see the shards of glass stuck in his crusty feet.

Ginny felt sick.

Hestia loomed over him, cutting off his soiled shirt with the flick of a knife. "Hellebore!" Ginny stated, holding it up for Hestia to see before plopping it down on the table. Fred was back, dumping new wood into the fire. Charlie and Tonks had arrived at some point as well.

Before she knew what was happening, a basin of steaming water was shoved into Ginny's hand. "Clean his head. It's old blood," Molly said shortly and Ginny was quick to do it. She moved beside Hestia, taking the wet rag from the basin and gently scrubbing at the boy's brow, washing the blood away. He groaned as the water streamed across his face.

Hestia surveyed the wounds, poking and prodding gently as if to hear the poor boy moan. Everyone stopped for a moment, watching her, and waiting for direction.

"Magic?" she asked. The question sounded like it was directed towards everyone, but Hestia's blue eyes fell specifically on Moody.

"No magic," he grunted, "I'm already worried about that distress signal attracting attention."

"No magic," Hestia repeated, looking hopelessly at the figure before her. Blowing out a bout of air, she put her hands on her hips and her face suddenly became very stern. "Tonks- you're on lookout. Make sure that distress signal really didn't draw any attention."

"Right-o." And the pink-haired nymph was out the door.

"Molly, I need a blood replenishing potion. No magic- but I think you can manage a simple one at least. Can you do that?"

"Of course."

"Arthur, I need a bedroom cleared out- one on the first floor preferably. It needs to be decontaminated- no dust, no dirt, and no ungodly, random magical creatures hiding in the curtains."

"The only bedroom on the first floor is the old butler's and housekeeper's quarters. Will that work?"

"Perfect. Fred, I want you to keep that fire going. Get more wood if you have to. It looks like we're going to need more than what you got."

Fred nodded and left.

"Alastor, I'm sure you already know what you have to do."

"I'm already out the door, Hestia," he murmured, "Good luck." Hestia gave the grizzled man a soft smile as he clunked out of the kitchen and into the yard.

The room seemed to have cleared out quite a bit, now only holding Hestia, Ginny, Charlie, and the boy on the table. Hestia's smile faded as her gaze fell on the two siblings. "We have to operate."

"Operate?" Charlie echoed, looking desperately at his sister, "What do you mean operate?"

"I need your strength and Ginny's hands. He's been hit multiple times with some sort of cutting curse and I think some of his injuries might be due to actual weaponry- cursed or not, I have no idea. We need to close his wounds and stop the bleeding- without magic. Have you two ever heard of stitches?"

Stitches… Ginny's mind raced back to just four years ago when her father had landed in St. Mungo's, bitten by Voldemort's very own pet. His wound, infected and cursed, would not close. The healers there had used stitches, a Muggle practice, and it had not worked. It had been ugly.

She felt a spout of doubt rush through her.

"Do you think it will work? Stitches?"

"Do you have any other ideas?"

It was quite obvious that neither Ginny nor Charlie had any clue as to what they were doing, much less any ideas.

"Well, tell us what to do," Charlie said, and then it was down to business.

"First, we need to get some hellebore in him to ease the pain. We've got no painkillers on store and to make them would take hours and magic- things we don't have. Once that's done, Charlie, I need you to put pressure on the bleeding and stop it so Ginny and I can get in there for the stitches…"

The rest was a haze. Ginny cut off her mind from her body, moving here and acting there as Hestia directed her about the patient. She could hear the boy groan and tremble at her touch, gasping and jumping when she moved wrong and it scared her. The blood caked around her fingers as she worked, no matter how hard Charlie tried to stop it. She could smell the liquid, stinging at her nostrils and it made her sick. But she worked on, biting her lip as she went. After a torturous hour, Molly came in with the blood replenishing potion Hestia had asked for and they all took a break as the designated healer administered it to the boy.

Ginny could barely breathe, looking at the torn body before her, stitched together with her own shaking hands. She could barely focus when they returned to working, knowing one slip of the hand could mean the end. Sweat pooled at her brow and when she went to wipe it, blood smeared her forehead. The boy still twisted and turned under their touch and it was a miracle when he would finally pass out, delirious from the pain and the fever.

Ginny wanted to scream when she had to remove the glass from his swollen feet. Each jagged piece ended in a piercing scream that made her want to cry. Maybe she did start crying- she couldn't remember. It was hard to recall the exact process of the operation, each move she made. It was like a cloud had fogged her brain and she was suddenly sure of absolutely nothing. But there was one thing she remembered, the boy's groans and his screams. She would remember those forever.

Just four hours after Ginny came into the kitchen to find a boy on the table, the operation was over and their patient was somewhat stable and breathing- though suffering from great pain and a great fever. Hestia collapsed in one of the chairs pushed against the wall while Charlie ran to bathroom, throwing up the dinner he didn't have. It was then that Ginny finally finished the job first given to her by her mother. She picked up the basin, filled it with new, warm water, and went to work at cleaning his body. She started at his feet, wiping down the tiny scars where glass once was, moving up his chest and torso as she cleaned every stitch she knew would one day be a scar. And finally, she washed his face, scrubbing away the blood that marred his _pointy_ features and his _blond_ hair.

_Pointy features and blond hair…_

Ginny gasped, stepping back from the table. She stared at the man- no, the boy- in front of her, studying the features she knew so well. It was only when a large thud came from across the room that she looked up. Mad-Eye Moody stood in the doorway, staring at her.

"Draco Malfoy?" she asked quietly, looking to the great Auror for some answer, some explanation for this madness. All this fuss, this commotion, four hours of strenuous labor, of saving his life and it was _Draco Malfoy?_ Draco Malfoy who had teased her so mercilessly in school, who had disgraced her family time and time again, who fought not only against her brothers but Harry as well, who was the Weasley's arch nemesis through and through, who had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts Castle, who had almost killed Dumbledore, and _whose father set a diary in her cauldron so many years ago?_ Draco Malfoy who she had loathed, hated, despised, and abhorred and still continued to do so? _Draco Malfoy!_

She didn't understand!

Moody nodded.

Ginny felt so completely and utterly frustrated. Don't just nod! She needed more. She needed an explanation! "Why?" she choked, but he did not respond. He simply clunked across the kitchen, walking as slowly as could be, with no answer coming from his lips.

"Why?" Ginny asked desperately, but this time to Hestia, still slouched in her wooden chair. The girl barely felt the frustrated tears streaming down her face.

"Because he's still a little boy," the woman said quietly, "and little boys still make mistakes."

**xxx**

Please Review!


	2. Natural

**Disclaimer-** The plot's mine. The rest isn't.

**Author's Note**- Oh my! Can I just give thanks to all the wonderful reviewers? Because you guys are fantastic and all deserve chocolate chip cookies for being amazing. I honestly wasn't expecting such great feedback and seeing your reviews really made my life complete. Thank you so much! Also, I want to clear up some turmoil in regards to the title of the story. Oedipus is purely symbolic and will have nothing to do with the plot. This means Draco will NOT kill Lucius, marry Narcissa, and then stab his eyes out. I promise. There is NO incest. That ok with everyone? Now, I want you all to kiss the ground upon which my wonderful beta, Jess, walks. She's absolutely wonderful. Alright, I'll stop boring you guys with this long, drawn out author's note and let you get on with the story. Enjoy and please review with your opinions and some input if you'd like. It's greatly appreciated.

**xxx**

OEDIPUS  
_Natural_

"_Hate is to great a burden too bear. It injures the hater more than it injures the hated."  
_-Coretta Scott King

**xxx**

There had been no meeting that night- everyone was too tired and too distraught to even think about formulating another plan. It was not long before everyone had crashed into bed, snoring gently as though nothing unusual had happened that night. Only one person stayed up in the house- Hestia, at Draco's side, administering medicine and potions to the young man periodically.

Ginny rose the next morning to nice smells from the kitchen. She was staying in an old guest bedroom on the second floor. She preferred it even to her own room at home- or what had been home. The Burrow, which had become the Order's headquarters just months after Dumbledore's death, was now burned to the ground, destroyed in the most devastating raid the New Death Eaters had made yet. The remaining Weasleys had been homeless, left with nowhere to go until Neville had come along. Neville, an active member of the Order working as somewhat of a spy within the Ministry, offered up his ancestral home to be the new headquarters. The Order had taken it gladly.

Facing the east, Ginny's bedroom filled with streams of sunlight in the morning. Decorated in white and colonial blue, the room offered a quaint, pleasant tone- more mature than the yellow and pink lace of her old room. Still in her grungy pajamas, an old pair of her father's, she trotted down the stairs. Fred and Charlie were already sitting at the kitchen table and she could see Moody out in the yard. Her mother was at the stove, frying bacon, and Ginny knew Remus would be down soon along with her father whose job it was to unlock the werewolf from his makeshift cage.

"Morning," Molly chirped, glancing over her shoulder. "Bacon or sausage?"

"Bacon," Ginny replied, coming to sit next to Charlie. She looked incredibly sleepy, rubbing at her swollen eyes. Her short hair flew around her face in an angry mane.

"Sleep well?" Charlie asked.

She shrugged. "Did you?"

"No."

Ginny wasn't sure she'd ever sleep well again- not after that ordeal.

"He's stable," Charlie said. "Hestia just came in and told us."

"Yipee," Ginny said blandly, picking at the bacon Molly had just put in front of her. Charlie shook his head.

"You should be glad. You did well last night."

The image of the boy's face suddenly flew into her head- Draco Malfoy's face. The surprise, that gut-wrenching feeling of misunderstanding- it was all coming back to her.

She didn't respond.

"Ginny, what's wrong with your hand?" It was Fred who asked, looking anxiously at her makeshift bandage still crusty with blood. She had forgotten about the wound until now, as though the constant, painful sting had become normal to her existence.

"I tripped last night. I fell on the axe."

"You what?" Molly screeched, already hurrying over and grabbing the girl's hand. Ginny's face contorted in pain as her mother inspected the bandage, pulling it off though it stuck and snagged. "We need to get this cleaned out and put some real bandages on it."

Mrs. Weasley was quick to fill the basin with warm water and directed Ginny to submerge her hand within it. She went the rest of breakfast like that- her left hand soaking in water, her right picking at her food.

It was when Molly finally deemed the gash clean enough for dressing that Hestia came into the kitchen, purple smudges beneath her red eyes. Going straight for the coffee, she hadn't uttered a word until her first cup was gone.

"He's going to be alright," she said to no one in particular.

"How is he now?" Molly asked, winding cloth around Ginny's hand.

"Sleeping, finally. It took all night, but I think that hellebore finally kicked in. He'll probably stay that way for a good day or two."

"Are you staying then?"

Hestia sighed, "I don't think I can. I need to get back to St. Mungo's."

"What about the boy?"

"Even if I could take him to St. Mungo's, he's not well enough to make the trip. I wouldn't dare to move him again at this point."

"I don't think the healers at St. Mungo's would be too happy to see him either," Charlie added.

Ginny snorted, "That whole '_known Death Eater_' thing might make them a bit uncomfortable." Fred seemed to find this amusing, but Molly was quick to throw a stern look at her daughter.

"Ginevra Weasley, we'll have none of that."

Ginny made a face. She hated when her mother called her that.

"Then what are we going to do with him?" Molly asked. "He can't just stay here, can he?

"I've just had a chat with Alastor and Arthur and they seem to think that it would be the best idea." Molly look a bit alarmed at the thought, but Hestia rushed to reassure her, "There's no place safer at the moment, especially after the wards Alastor reinforced last night. I'll be able to make as many visits as I can. In the meantime, I figured I could give you all some directions on how to look after him. It won't be hard. I've already got some simple potions he needs to be given and he'll need someone to watch him for the next few days while he's sleeping to make sure nothing goes awry. You know what its like to have a sick boy around more than anyone, I'm sure, Molly."

"More than I'd like. But I've had magic to help my boys and without being able to use it here, I'll admit that I'm a tad worried."

Ginny almost snorted. Her mother probably knew better than Hestia what to do with an ailing boy. She wasn't worried about that- no. She was worried about what to do with an ailing Death Eater under her roof and Ginny was wondering too.

"Just follow my directions and he'll be fine. You're a mother, Molly. You'll know what to do. Have Ginny help. She's got talent and promise. Lots of promise."

"Promise?" Ginny said curiously, "What do you mean?"

Hestia smiled at her, much like she had smiled at Moody the night before, "You did well last night- very well. Have you ever thought about becoming a mediwitch?"

To be perfectly honest, Ginny hadn't. She always thought mediwitches were girls like Hermione- overachievers and viciously smart. Sure, Ginny had always done well in her classes and was known to throw a mean curse, but she'd never had the grades necessary to get her into a medical university, much less the money. She'd never thought that she, plain old Ginny Weasley, would be good at saving people's lives.

So she shook her head.

"Funny that. You're a natural, girl."

"Thank you."

But she wasn't a natural. She couldn't have been a natural! She had been so nervous, shaking and breathing heavy like she was running out of air. The pressure had been enough to make her break down, to simply fall to the ground and sob, but somehow she bit her lip and carried through. It was a miracle- it wasn't natural.

"When all this is over, you should consider it. I could even teach you a thing or two when I'm around."

But for some reason, Ginny was still intrigued. "I think I'd like that."

"I'm glad to hear it," Hestia said. "Hopefully I'll be back soon, but now, I'm afraid, I must be off."

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat before you go?" Molly said, but Hestia was already pulling on her deep purple cloak. She was a pretty woman, Ginny thought. Her black hair was sleek and shiny, reaching her collarbone and she was quite tall. She always wore scarves, even in the house and in the summer there was a scarf tied around her neck. And though her face was rather round, Ginny thought the way she managed to carry herself quite made up for it.

"No, I'm off to a late enough start as it is already. But thank you. Stay safe."

"Good luck."

With one last wave, she walked out into the yard. Ginny could watch her through the window, trotting across the thick plate of snow to the forest beyond. She would have to make it through the woods, then the wards and then to the train station in the Muggle village below, Ormshirk, to get close to her destination of London. It was a long trip that many Order members had to make, but it was too risky for magic. The Death Eaters, growing in power and number, we're tracking everywhere and almost everyone was in magical hiding, forgoing magic to avoid discovery. With their new charm breakers, an Unplottable Charm would draw more attention than avoid it. And though there were strong wards around Longbottom Manor, they were old ancient charms reinforced by blood and stone- not by a wand. Headquarters was therefore untraceable.

"Malfoy's not really going to stay, Mum," Fred spoke up after a period of silence, "is he?"

Molly, who had gone back to the stove, did not even look up. "I don't know, Fred. I don't know any more than you."

"But Mum-"

It was Charlie who spoke next. "He's going to stay, Fred."

"Why?"

"Because we need him." Ginny spun around on the bench to look at her father. He was wearing new robes, different from the tattered ones she saw him in last night, and he looked as though he'd barely gotten any sleep.

"Draco Malfoy?" Fred looked appalled.

"Yes," Arthur said. "We need him."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Dad, but good ol' Draco Malfoy has this little tattoo on his wrist- I don't know if you've forgotten what it means or something, but generally- it isn't good."

"Fred, I know very well what he is. In fact, I'm sure we all do."

"And you feel comfortable having him sleep under the same roof as your wife and children!" Fred asked incredulously, his voice rising so high it almost cracked.

"Yes, actually, I do."

"But Dad-"

But Charlie had cut him off, sounding sharper than Ginny had ever remembered. "Cut it out, Fred. He's staying and the two of you are going to quit it. He's certainly done a lot of shite-" Molly cringed at this use of poor language, but said nothing, "-but even people who do a lot of shite can make up for it."

"And last night, that boy certainly made up for it."

"Why?" Ginny said, "What happened."

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth for a moment, but paused with only breath coming out. "That," he said slowly, "is a story for another day."

Mrs. Weasley looked at him curiously and silently. Realization hit Ginny and she knew that her mother was as much in the dark as she was. This all was horse shite! Fred fell into silence at his father's quiet, closing words and so did Ginny.

"There's a leak in Remus's bedroom. Water's been pooling in from the roof all night," Arthur said eventually, now sitting at the table and devouring his breakfast, "Fred, I was thinking you could help me figure something out to fix it. You're creative."

Arthur Weasley was having a grand ole time acting as a Muggle, his favorite pastime - playing handyman. He had no experience in fixing anything around a house without magic, but sure enough, he was doing it. Fred was often there to help him, coming up with elaborate ideas to keep the sink from leaking or a door from squeaking. And it was amusing as hell to watch.

"Sure, Dad," Fred said glumly. He took one last bit of bacon before standing. Arthur wiped his greasy hands down on his pant leg before doing the same. As they were walking out of the room, Arthur put his arm on Fred's shoulder and said, "What do you know about _plaster_?"

Ginny was done with her breakfast by now and had been done for some time, in fact. But she kept pushing the remaining, slippery egg around on her plate. She had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. There was the book she'd started yesterday, but she was too tired to think, much less read. She figured she'd stay at the table as long as she could, pretending to eat. At least that would keep her from the chores she knew her mother was ready to appoint at the mere sign of idleness.

Unfortunately, Molly Weasley a bit too clever for this little ploy.

"Ginny, will you sit in with the boy today?" she asked coyly, scrubbing at a frying pan. Ginny almost sighed. So, she'd been caught.

"Yes, Mum," she said grudgingly, picking up her plate and setting it by the sink. Her open book was still sitting on the window seat and she picked it up. Waiting beside a sick bed was bound to get boring no matter if she was in the mood for reading or not.

"If he wakes up, just call. I'll be around."

"Yes, Mum."

"And I'll be in there in a little while with that potion Hestia left. I'm just going to make a bit more- better to be prepared, I'd think."

"Yes, Mum."

Oh, fate was too cruel. If living in this purgatory hadn't been bad enough, Draco-sodding-Malfoy just had to show up. Ginny still didn't understand- didn't understand how the Order could put so much effort into keeping that Death Eater alive, to not turn him in and send him to Azkaban where he belonged, to not simply leave him for dead though it was more than he deserved. No, they were letting him stay under their own roof where he could easily murder everyone in their sleep. Ginny was sure he would.

Or if not murder, something along those lines.

Draco Malfoy was evil and it seemed like only her and Fred were able to recognize it openly. Oh, if only Ron were here. Or Harry. Those two would protest- they would understand. They would kick Malfoy to the curb, get rid of him as soon as they saw him. Not take him in like a stray off the streets! Even Hermione wouldn't stand for this! It was madness!

But when Ginny pushed open that door, the boy lying on the bed before her hardly seemed evil.

In their sleep Ginny had always thought people seemed to look like little cherubs, innocent and vulnerable in their dreamy state of consciousness. When they were asleep, it looked as if they could do no wrong, like everyone was the little angel they had once been as a child.

Well, she could hardly say that about Draco Malfoy. He certainly didn't look anything near to that- a cherub. But hell, he didn't look evil either. His arms weren't crossed over his chest like a vampire and he wasn't upside down. He wasn't mumbling curses in his sleep or growling like a mangy dog. He wasn't doing any of those sorts of things.

He was guarded, clutching the sheets like he was afraid they would somehow escape. His brow was furrowed in anxiety and he was so pale, Ginny could see the veins around his temples sharp and blue. He looked pained, sore, and tortured. She could not help but feel the pang of sadness creeping at her heart.

This wasn't the Malfoy she remembered- this scared, broken little boy. Malfoy was a monster. He was sharp and biting and dark. Not fair and melancholy like the sleeping boy before her. No, this could not be the boy who had made fun of her so many times before. This could not be the boy who attempted to kill Dumbledore, and no, this could not be the boy whose father had handed her a diary so many years ago.

It wasn't him.

Suddenly, she didn't hate him any more.

**xxx**

**Please review!**


	3. Roses

**Disclaimer-** Not mine. Don't sue.

**Author's Note**- You are all so fantastic. I just want to thank everyone who's reading this story and everyone's who's reviewing. Your feedback is just wonderful and I really, really love it. Let's give another round for my wonderful beta reader, Jess, because she's absolutely wonderful as well. I do not know what I'd do without her. And now, on with the story. Please review! This one's for Katie.

**xxx**

OEDIPUS  
_Roses_

"_He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses."  
_-English Proverb

**xxx**

The first thing he saw was red- swimming around him. It was only a moment- a flash- before falling back into night again.

The second thing he saw was flowers- roses maybe- and still red. There were so many surrounding him, closing in, but there was no smell and there was no sound. No sound except for fingernails on paper over and over again. When he tried to follow the noise, he went black again.

The third thing he saw was her.

And he swore to Salazar, he really was in hell.

Sunlight. It was the warmth Ginny needed to sooth her aching muscles. There was a hint of a smile as she sat down on the kitchen bench.

"Well, look, it's Dilys Derwent- back from the sick bed," Fred commented from across the table. Ginny tossed him a glare.

"Who the bloody hell is that?"

"Language, Ginny," came her father's voice from behind his paper.

"Sorry, Dad." She bashfully looked back at Fred.

"Don't worry about it," he said slyly.

She shot him another glare. "Whatever." And she went back to nibbling on a biscuit.

Molly and Remus were standing at the counter, Molly washing dishes and Remus making tea. Molly, it seemed, was chatting poor Remus's ear off, but it didn't really look as though he minded.

Two days had already passed since the night Draco Malfoy had landed on their doorstep. Things had been thankfully quiet since then. Remus, fully recovered from the full moon, was finally up and about. Mr. Weasley had forced Fred along on his mission to fix up the house and Charlie had been back and forth from the Ministry, bringing word and sending messages. Mrs. Longbottom had even made an appearance or two, coming down to the parlor after dinner and catching up with the news for her fix of gossip, an appetite hard to satisfy in times like these. She'd heard from Neville, she told them, through the Muggle post. He'd been away for a fortnight now living in his flat in London.

After Hogwarts, he had been recruited by the Department of Mysteries and almost everyone had been surprised- especially Neville. He gladly accepted the job and was currently working there as a trainee. Word from him was scarce as he was extremely busy. When he did pick up the odd bit of information, he was sure to send it the Order, becoming somewhat of a spy. Ginny thought Neville must like the idea of that very much- the once bumbling student now working the prestigious Department of Mysteries and sending invaluable information to the Order. Ginny was glad for him, though she missed him as well. Neville had always been a good friend of hers, maybe even her best. He was remarkably easy to talk to. Ginny loved Luna, but there were some things the girl just didn't understand. Neville, however, was logical and down to Earth- the perfect match for Ginny's constant display of recklessness and sometimes stupidity.

Ginny, regrettably, had heard of Neville's good health secondhand. She had not been able to participate in their parlor talks after dinner. In fact, she had not even been able to attend dinner. Ginny had unfortunately been made the Manor's unofficial nurse in Hestia's absence and she had barely left Malfoy's side in forty-eight hours because of it. Her back was aching from sleeping in the chair beside his bed and she was in a rather foul mood because of it.

"How is he?" Charlie asked. He was sitting next to Fred.

"The same," Ginny replied. She didn't feel like elaborating. She'd had enough of Draco Malfoy.

He was always the same, just lying there with his furrowed brow. Ginny would just sit reading in the stiff wooden chair and when she got tired of reading, she would study the paper on the wall, finding patterns in the roses there. She had been following Hestia's directions, administering potions and medicine as appropriate, but the red-cheeked witch had still not returned.

"Then what are you doing out here?" Apparently, Molly had overheard. Ginny silently sighed.

"I was hungry."

"I told you I'd bring you lunch in at noon."

"I know, but-"

"Ginny, what if you're gone and he wakes up? What if he did wake up already?"

"Alright, alright, I'm going back." Ginny grabbed another biscuit before stomping away from the table.

"Give my regards to Malfoy!" she heard Fred call after her. The biscuit was flying through the air before he knew what was happening, exploding with the contact of his forehead.

She didn't even look back, slamming the bedroom door only to see the familiar red rose wallpaper surrounding her.

_Another day babysitting Malfoy_, she thought grudgingly, plopping into the stiff wooden chair. The book she had been reading, Peter Pan, was spine up on the end table beside her. When she reached for it, she was met with quite the surprise.

"Weasley?"

The book dropped.

Pain was shooting through him. He could feel it everywhere, stabbing, biting, catching in his breath. And he couldn't move.

It took a moment for his mind to register, for his eyes to focus. She was shutting the door when he legitimately woke up. Her navy collar dress was clean and crisp, flattering but out of date. He didn't recognize her at first, though the old apparel should have been a clue. But she was older now, yet still uncannily familiar. The last time he had seen her was three years ago, just one day before that fateful night. She'd been walking down the Charms hallway right beside Potter. She'd said something funny that made him laugh and he had pulled her into him, dropping a kiss upon her freckled nose. Simple, unadulterated loathing had blinded Draco then and he remembered it- well.

Her hair was much shorter now, curling around her chin and ears in a much more mature cut. She was taller now too, not by much, but the couple or so inches were noticeable.

And he had no idea in hell why she was here.

Then again, where the fuck was here?

"You're awake," she said after a moment and rather blankly too. She had just been staring at him before that.

"It would appear to be that way, wouldn't it?" He meant to sound sarcastic, scathing as was his nature, but he ending up croaking. Salazar, how long had it been since he last used his voice? His throat stung painfully- just like everywhere else it seemed.

The girl- Weasley- looked utterly helpless, casting her eyes this way and that, trying not to look at him. _Ginny_- he'd finally remembered her name. How could he have forgotten? _Ginny_- the name always rolling off Potter's lips with a smile on his face. That sense of utter loathing rose in his throat again.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've been stabbed multiple times in a wide array of places." He certainly wasn't lying about that. "Well, what do you know, Malfoy? You hit the nail right on the head." She looked rather cross. Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but instead something caught his eye.

"Red roses," he realized, staring at the wallpaper. That was what he had seen- red rose wallpaper.

"Aren't you a clever one? And here I was worried you had a concussion." Malfoy ignored this, turning back to her earnestly.

"Where am I?" he demanded.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, if you're going to ask like that…"

"Pardon me," Draco said politely, "where bloody fuck am I?"

"And that's just so much better."

"Stop playing games with me, Weasley. I have the right to know where you mutts dragged me off to," he snapped. Ginny thought he looked rather like a child, hissing and sputtering like a little boy who got coal in his stocking.

"Rights? You think you have rights?" Ginny laughed, "I don't know where the hell you think you are, Malfoy, but I can guarantee, it's not anywhere you have _rights_."

Draco glared at her viciously, smiling like a goddamn banshee, she was. He was Draco sodding Malfoy! What was she thinking talking to him like this? Of course he had rights!

And suddenly, it hit him. He had given himself up to the Order.

He really did have no rights.

The weariness, the disorientation had made him forget that night- the traitorous thoughts running through his head, the traitorous thoughts he had turned into traitorous actions.

And there was no going back.

_Fuck… _

"Where am I?" he said once more, stiffly and through closed teeth. He had never felt so stupid in his entire life, ready to beg a _Weasley_ for information as she found amusement in toying with him. This was blasphemy.

"What? Do you really think I'm going to tell you- so you can run off to all your little Death Eater friends?" Draco had to admit, she was right not to trust him.

Because at the moment, he wasn't even sure he trusted himself.

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"Just a taste of your own med- Oh!" she exclaimed, running over to the bureau across the room, "I had almost forgotten." She withdrew a clear vile of blue liquid, then looked to a sheet of scrawled writing posted inside the cabinet. "You need to take this."

Draco sneered, "What is it?"

"Medicine."

"Oh, wow, that's _really_ great, but what kind, _you moron_? Do you really think I'm going to ingest something I know nothing about just because you said so?"

"Well yes. Though I admit, I _will_ enjoy forcing it now your throat if you don't take it willingly."

Normally, Draco would be up to the challenge of fending her off, but he was smart enough to know in his current state, he was royally screwed. "Give it here."

He took the vile, looking at it thoughtfully. Figuring he had nothing left to loose, he downed its contents entirely.

"Damn, that was easy."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I thought cooperating might be more obnoxious that giving you the pleasure of abusing me."

"You _are_ clever," she said sarcastically, plucking the empty vile from his hands. He was about to say something snide when a cool, liquidy feeling poured over him. It was like the blood in his body had somehow turned to water, cleaning him of every ache and sore he had. His throat no longer felt like it had been scraped with a razor blade and all the cuts along his chest and back were cold. But there was no pain anymore- none whatsoever.

"Feeling better?" she asked coyly.

"What the hell was that?"

"Pain killer of some sort. I don't know the actual potion, but Hestia left it for you."

"Who's Hestia?"

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. She was smarter than she looked, Draco thought, staring at her critically. Sure, she would slip every once in a while, but she wasn't about to reveal any information she didn't want to- that is, unless he worked for it.

"If I leave you here alone for two minutes, do you think you can manage not to murder anyone?"

_That_ was uncalled for. Draco involuntarily winced. She had just as good as said he was a murderer and well, maybe he was, but- he didn't know what he was expecting when he got into this, but it sure as hell wasn't this sort of hostility. He thought the Order was good- why was she sitting there with such loathing in her eyes and a tongue ready to bite? Weren't they supposed to be saintly? Wasn't this supposed to be easy?

"I'll be alone, won't I?" he spat.

Her hand was already on the doorknob, "Try not to break anything then, would you?"

"I'm an invalid, not a threat, you stupid bint."

Ginny frowned and when she spoke, she was quiet and thoughtful, "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Malfoy."

And she was gone.

What _had_ he gotten himself into?

**xxx**

Ginny groaned. What the hell were they talking about in there?

She was practically dying out here.

It was just over three hours ago that Remus and her father had rushed into Malfoy's room just moments after she announced his consciousness. The two had been holed up in there ever since with a lock on the door and her mother had absolutely forbid her from eavesdropping. It was _unbearable_ sitting out in the kitchen, just waiting for them to appear- waiting to get some sort of information out of them. Godric be damned, she wanted to know what was going on- desperately.

Fred, it seemed, felt very much the same. He had been sitting there too, carving into the worn kitchen table with the end of a fork. Normally, Molly would have called him out for it, but she seemed to be so distracted at the moment, fluttering around the stove as she baked something completely unnecessary- a trifle or custard of some sort. Ginny could tell she was just as anxious as her children.

Charlie was in and out of the room, moving upstairs and downstairs, completely and utterly aimless. He was thinking, Ginny knew, and thinking hard. She remembered when he would get like this back at home- at the Burrow. He would pace and pace and pace, as though wearing his footprints into the floor would somehow solve the issue at hand.

At the moment, he was imprinting the shape of his dragons hide boots on the wood in front of the fireplace. He looked anxious- extremely anxious. Neither Ginny nor Fred had any idea of how to ease his troubled steps.

"Charlie?" Ginny said finally, looking for his attention. He stopped abruptly, sticking his hands behind his back in a stiff military position.

"Yeah, Gin?"

"What happened that night?"

Fred and Molly both looked up at this. She knew they too had been wondering the exact same thing. They just didn't have the gall to say it, afraid of Charlie's reaction. The one thing they all did know was that whatever happened that night, it was very serious.

Charlie seemed surprised by the question and it took him a moment to gain his composure.

He said nothing.

**xxx**

Draco didn't know why he hadn't expected this- didn't know why he actually thought the Weaslette would be the only person walking through that door. When the hinges creaked again, it wasn't a young woman that entered, but two grown men who Draco recognized all too well. The first was a tall, lanky man with graying red hair. The second was shorter, his shaggy chestnut hair framing a thin, wrinkled face. Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin.

Draco nearly sighed, but in his numb condition, he found it impossible.

The pair were staring at him thoughtfully, completely silent.

_Awkward… _

Finally Draco croaked, "Well, gentlemen, why don't you have a seat? Make yourselves at home." Though the pain in his throat had disappeared with Ginny's (or Hestia's) potion, it did nothing to ease his cracking tone.

In his blue eyes, Arthur looked amused and he took the seat Ginny had been sitting in just moments ago. Remus simply looked uncomfortable, pulling up a stool from across the room.

Silence again.

This time it was Arthur who broke it. "You saved my son that night." It was a statement that hung thick in the air like fog..

Maybe because it was true.

Draco nodded. "I know."

It was a moment before anyone could respond. Oh, how uncomfortable situations could take the words out of one's mouth.

"Why?" Arthur asked finally.

Draco honestly did not know the answer.

Why had he done it? That night was so much of a blur.

Hogsmeade- the raid the Dark Lord had been planning for months, an attack so great it would lure the elusive Harry Potter out of his hiding, the battle that could have been the final- but it wasn't. It wasn't even close.

It had been a miracle when just three years ago, the Dark Lord had accepted Draco back into his fold. The attack on Hogwarts had been a disaster. Yes, Dumbledore was dead, it was hardly the way the Dark Lord had planned it. After hours of begging, torture, and Snape's kind persuasion, Draco was still considered a Death Eater, but no longer did he have the respect that a Malfoy deserved. He was thrown to the bottom of the food chain- just another one of Voldemort's nameless goons. And he_ hated_ it.

He had joined for the glory, for the power, for the respect and suddenly, he was nothing- a coward and a weakling in the eyes of those who were no longer his peers.

Not only that, as part of the deal for his return into the Circle, Malfoy Manor, his ancestral home, had been handed over to the Dark Lord- now a haven for his Death Eaters. It was practically Voldemort's resort as only the very best of his followers were allowed to lounge there. All while Narcissa Malfoy- Draco's beautiful, elegant mother- waited on them hand and foot. He had met her in the village by the Manor any chance she could get away from the servitude the Dark Lord had enslaved her in as punishment for Draco's cowardice. There he could see her once perfect hands red with work and wear and her once immaculate clothes were fraying at the seams. Thank Salazar his father was still in Azkaban. It would kill him to see what the Malfoys had become.

The guilt was overwhelming.

It was Draco's error- and his cowardice- that had landed his mother in such an awful fix. She was a woman who had done nothing wrong in her entire life, a saint in Draco's eyes. She did not deserve the cruel treatment he had caused her. And yet, there was nothing he could do. None of his fellow Death Eaters would help him and a plea to the Dark Lord would certainly mean death. Hell, Aunt Bella would do nothing to stop this madness and Narcissa was her sister!

He hated it. He hated to see her tired and weary like she had not eaten in days- like she was some sort of _house-elf_. She belonged in satin gowns and golden tiaras- not rags. Every time he thought about it, he got sicker and sicker.

Oh, the plots he had come up with- the plans to rescue her. But how could he, a lowly servant of the Dark Lord, save her from the wrath of all his followers all by himself? He could not- not without help.

But with help…

Draco had never been a killer. He hated the sounds of battle, the screams of death. Lifeless eyes and frozen hands disturbed him. They brought no pleasure- not like they did for the Dark Lord, or for Aunt Bella, or even for his father. The life of a Death Eater no longer held the appeal it had in his younger years. Now it wasn't anything but a burden- a way to survive.

He needed help. He needed to get out and to get his mother out as well.

The only possibility, he knew all too well, was the Order of the Phoenix. He had considered everyone else- but no one was strong enough, or kind enough, to help him in such a way. The Order of the Phoenix, his only chance at salvation, was founded by the very wizard he had tried to murder three years ago. Oh, the irony.

Still, they were his only chance- an impossible chance. So he never pursued it, only thinking in the back of his head, sure to let no one know of his wish to get away.

In Hogsmeade, when he had seen that red-haired Order member, Draco did not know what came over him. It was when that man was lying there, writhing on the ground from the Cruciatus Curse and too worn out to fend off the hex about to hit him, that Draco did something _very_ reckless.

He jumped.

He jumped in front of Charlie Weasley and the _Sectumsempra_ coming at him.

Draco had considered going to the Order so many times, but only in the wee hours of the night, when sleep seemed to be a far off place. He had never been _serious_ about it. Unfortunately, due to rash instinct, he had taken things entirely out of his own hands.

He had ripped the mask off his face then, conjuring a defensive charm around him and the Weasley boy. Her hood and mask still covered her face, but Draco recognized the attacker's confident sway and demeaning laugh- Aunt Bella. Weasley had laid on the ground behind Draco as he tried to recover. Bella had been surprised by Draco at first, but only enough for him to throw one hex at her. She responded with fervor, dueling her nephew until he was on his knees, bleeding with more pain than he had ever experienced.

It was then that a flash of red flew across his vision. Just as he had saved Charlie Weasley, Charlie Weasley was saving him. He heard Bella scream and suddenly he felt himself being carried. The rest he couldn't even begin to remember.

He didn't know what sort of answer they were expecting. Maybe that he did it out of sheer kindness or out of nobility. But that wasn't Draco. That wasn't even close.

That was Potter.

He hadn't saved Charlie Weasley out of goodness or heroics. He had done it because deep down, Draco wanted out and saving a Weasley had seemed like the best way to do it. It was an act performed out of purely selfish reasoning and to be honest, part of him was regretting it.

So why?

"I don't want to be part of that anymore."

Might as well tell the truth, he guessed.

And he explained it all to them- his cowardice, his return, his loss of the Manor, his mother, and his sudden reckless need to get out- to get help. He explained to them it was selfish. He explained to them it was wrong. Be he also explained he felt better being selfish than living behind a Death Eater's mask the rest of his life.

They didn't agree.

"Mr. Malfoy," Lupin said quietly when Draco had finished, "I'd hardly call that selfishness."

"What would you call it then?" Draco snapped. He was feeling vulnerable enough as it was, anxious about how they would react. He had told them the truth and he knew it was stupid, but he figured he might as well kick off his career as an ex- Death Eater with an honest start.

"I'd call that," Remus laughed sheepishly like he honestly didn't believe it, "bravery, actually."

Draco was speechless.

"Yes, you were thinking of yourself, Mr. Malfoy, but you were thinking of your mother as well. Not only that, you risked your life, however _selfishly_, and we all owe you greatly for that," Arthur said. "I would have lost another son if it had not been for you."

No cursing? No uproar? No punishment or torturous interrogation? Salazar, he _had_ made a good choice in going to the Order for help. These two didn't seem mad about _anything_.

Suddenly, he remembered Ginny's reaction. Maybe he should prepare for more hostility regardless of how Lupin and Mr. Weasley were taking it.

"I'm not proud of what I did- saving him, I mean," Draco said defensively. He was sneering.

"You don't have to be."

"Don't think I have any respect for you or your family either. I may be in a fix, but I am still a Malfoy. I know a gaggle of poverty ridden Muggle-lovers when I smell one."

It was true. The idea of staying with these blood traitors disgusted him. Sure, he didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore, but he hardly felt any different about Muggles and Mudbloods. It wasn't like he had _changed. _

"Obviously, you do," Arthur said in an amused tone, looking at the boy with a glint in his eye.

"Do what?"

"Respect us?"

"And why the hell would you think that?"

"You wouldn't have come to us for help if you didn't."

_Fuck. _

He had a point there.

**xxx**

**Please Review!**


	4. Evacuation

**Disclaimer:** Dream on.

**Author's Note: **I apologize so much for the wait! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and I hope you continue to do so! Also, thanks again to my amazing, amazing beta Jess. She's fantastic and so are all fo you. Enjoy and please review!

**XXX**

OEDIPUS  
_Evacuation_

"_We are not evacuating this house. We don't believe in you and your wrecking crew."  
_-_December_ by Regina Spektor

**XXX**

There was an Order meeting that night- just two days after Malfoy regained consciousness- and Ginny was _dying_ of curiosity. It wasn't like she was stupid. She knew what the meeting would be about. Yes, they would discuss the war and You-Know-Who's movements across Britain. They would even discuss what word they had from the Golden Trio, still out on their secret mission. That was highly confidential. But the main topic would be something new.

The main topic would be Draco Malfoy.

Ginny was dying to hear what everyone had to say.

She had already secured herself a place to eavesdrop with the help of Fred. He was actually considered part of the Order, but wasn't about to shut her out like the rest of them. She had always thought things would be different when she got out of Hogwarts- that she would be able to fight as part of the Order, to be something of a help in this war that seemed so hopeless at the moment. That had not been the case.

Ginny had never actually finished her time at Hogwarts. In her sixth year, the wards had been broken down, and the castle was destroyed as she and Neville Longbottom had hidden in a secret passage that Harry had showed her- a place they had often went to snog during her fifth year. She would never understand how the Death Eaters had gotten through, but the charm breakers they had recruited obviously were a part of it, along with the giants. They hardly seemed to be affected by measly wizard wards. Thank Godric that passage lead to Honeyduke's. She and Neville would have never gotten away otherwise.

Hogwarts was gone. Death Eaters unraveled the magic that had held it up for centuries. Every time Ginny thought of it, a lump rose in her throat.

But there were other things to think about now.

That night, Ginny greeted everyone politely as they entered- Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, Sturgis Podmore, Professor Flitwick, Mad-Eye Moody, Professor Sinistra, and Professor MeGonagall. Hestia gave her a soft smile as she came into the house, asking after her and then in a whisper about Draco. Ginny replied quietly of his improving health and commented although he was contained to bed, his sharp tongue was certainly making him seem less of a patient and more like a monster. Hestia laughed.

Ginny greeted Tonks with great enthusiasm. It had been ages since the two had seen each other, and Tonks promised they would catch up together once the meeting was over. She didn't have to get back to London tonight, so she figured to she would stay over, and for that Ginny was very glad. Even though Tonks was considerably older than she was, Ginny found in her a true and loyal friend. Tonks was fun. She had a sense of humour. She was not at all like Hermione- all fire and brimstone when it came to Ginny's actions. Tonks understood.

Ginny, however, doubted the two of them would have too much time to chitchat. At Grimmauld Place, the two used to stay up late into the night talking, but now, Ginny understood that Lupin had been rather lonely these past few weeks. It would be a sin if Tonks didn't spend the night with him.

When Hagrid arrived, he enveloped Ginny in a great big hug, glad to see that she was all right. When he started rambling anxiously about Harry, Ron, and Hermione, she had to assure him that they were all fine. Ginny was relieved when Molly rescued her by escorting him to the dining room.

Ginny wished desperately that she was being escorted there as well, not crouching outside the door to get the smallest bit of information. She was sick of not being included.

She wasn't a student anymore. She was a legal adult. In the past few months, she hadn't really questioned her position within the Order, but now she was older and hell, she had been taking care of Malfoy. Maybe, maybe they would let her sit in on the meeting tonight. All the work she had been doing _had_ to count for something.

"Mum?" Ginny asked her mother as she made her way towards the dining room. Everyone expected was there, and the meeting would be starting in just a few minutes.

"Yes, dear?"

Ginny took a deep breath, already anticipating the answer. "Do you think I could sit in on the meeting tonight?"

Molly frowned, staring down solemnly at her daughter. "Ginny, you already know the answer to that question."

"But Mum!" Ginny protested.

"You are _too_ young."

"I'm eighteen!"

"And you think that is old enough to throw your life away to this cause?" Molly said harshly, stopping her movement completely and standing with her hands on her hips.

"Throwing my life away?" Ginny echoed incredulously. "Then what the bloody hell are you doing?"

"I will not have you speak to me that way-"

"Fred and George joined at seventeen! Ron and Harry have been part of it since they were fifteen! It seems they threw their lives away quite early on, doesn't it?"

"That was different."

Ginny was seething. She knew she should not have started anything tonight. She had her spot for eavesdropping- what was the point in causing an issue?

The point was she was sick of being treated like a servant to the Order- running around preparing for them, taking care of them, but never being a part of it. She wanted to help.

She wanted to fight.

"Different? How the fuck was that different? They're boys?"

"Ginevra Weasley, I will not have you speak-"

They were both upset now, breathing harsh as their voices rose. It was not the time or place for fighting, but Ginny couldn't care less. She had been locked in this house too long, doing nothing for too long. She needed confrontation. She craved it.

"That's it, isn't it? It's because I'm a girl. Because I'm your little girl-"

"That is hardly it!"

"Then what, mother! Am I-"

"Because I said so, that's why! I am your mother and I will-"

"I'm a legal adult now! You can't control me!" Ginny barked, cutting her off.

"As long as you live under my roof-"

"This isn't your house!"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley-"

"Stop patronizing me! You're always patronizing me!" Ginny cried, gesturing wildly with hands. Molly did not look at all persuaded.

"Maybe if you stopped acting like a child and starting taking some responsibility-"

"Don't you dare- I have been working my bloody ass off in this godforsaken house!"

"Do not talk to me like that!"

Ginny ignored this. "I haven't seen you hanging at Malfoy's bedside! I've been there day and night; making sure the brat doesn't turn over the wrong way in his sleep and suffocate himself while you flit around the kitchen baking useless shite! We don't _need_ muffins!"

"Stop it, Ginny! I will not hear another word-"

"THEN LET ME JOIN!"

"NO!"

"WHY NOT!"

"I WILL NOT LOOSE ANOTHER ONE OF MY CHILDREN!" Molly roared. It was then that Ginny realized tears were streaming down her mother's face. She was startled- too startled to speak. Her mother's reaction had been unexpected, that was for sure.

Mother and daughter stared at each other in a moment of tension. Both were breathing heavy, trying to catch their breath. The yelling had drawn quite a crowd, as they were just outside the dining room, and through the double doors, most of the Order members were watching the exchange. Ginny realized this too late, it seemed, and though her face was hot from the argument, it flushed ever redder with embarrassment. Molly seemed to feel this way as well.

Clearing her throat, she spoke lowly with finality. "Go see if Malfoy needs anything."

She'd lost. Ginny had lost. And her mother had won.

Ginny wanted to die of humiliation as she turned her back on the Order and started walking away. She didn't even have the heart to eavesdrop after that ordeal. Maybe Fred would tell her what was discussed later- or even Tonks. She didn't really have to listen in. She could get the information easily enough.

With a fury in her feet, Ginny stormed down the hallway. She knew the best thing to do now was go to her room- to lie on her bed, to cool down, but she was fuming. She wanted to scream, she wanted to yell and throw things at the wall. No way could she sit down and let this wave of anger pass. The girl was out for blood.

And then she saw the light under the door at the end of the hall- Malfoy's room.

She'd had no intention of checking in on him after her mother's command. No, she was feeling too rebellious for that at first. But now, the greatest urge to scream and shout was drawing her footsteps towards the end of the hall. Who better than Malfoy to take the anger, the hurt, and the rejection out on?

With no hesitation, Ginny kicked the door open, ready to attack the invalid. She was geared up, psyched up, and she was good to go.

Well, until she heard Malfoy's yelp, and her eyes fell on his rather naked figure.

SHITE.

Ginny gave a high pitched yelp of her own, turning faster than she had ever moved so her widened eyes fell on something a little less scandalous- such as the wall.

"What the fuck, Weasley?" she heard Malfoy demand behind her. "I knew your type had horrible manners, but I thought you'd at least know how to _knock_."

Ginny felt a sting at the insult. If she wasn't embarrassed _enough_…

"How was I supposed to know you were up?" she snapped back, unable to think of anything else at the moment.

"Oh, so it's _okay_ to burst in my room if I'm _sleeping_, is that it?"

"Look, I'm sorry, ok?" If Ginny had felt like an immature, little child after her encounter with Molly, it was nothing like the shame Malfoy managed to evoke in her. "I wasn't aware you were a ponce who liked to frolic around in your birthday suit."

By the rustling of fabric, Ginny could tell her was changing into clothing as quickly as possible. "I just got out of the shower, Weasley. That hardly constitutes as _frolicking_."

"I didn't know!"

"That was made very apparent by your charming entrance. Salazar, you burst in here like a bloody stampede. Eager to see me?"

Ginny glared at the wall. "Yes, actually."

"Really?" Malfoy said suggestively, before adding in a more casual tone, "You can turn around now."

Ginny sighed and spun around. He was standing by the dresser, fully clothed much to Ginny's relief. He was actually wearing the outfit Ginny had left out for him. She had noticed Bill and Malfoy were very much of the same build and had picked out a pair of dark jeans and a Hobgoblins t-shirt from her brother's old wardrobe. There hadn't really been a lot to choose from, but Ginny found the clothes suited him surprisingly well. She was used to seeing him in his crisp school uniform or in sharp Quidditch robes. He had always been imposing in his form of dress, but now, for the first time she could remember, he looked casual. The t-shirt showed of the length of his torso and the jeans hung loosely around his hips. His hair, in that post-shower state between wet and dry, was mussed carelessly. He looked more like a teenager than he ever had- not like the dark, sinister Death Eater Ginny had always imagined him as.

"What?" Malfoy shot after a moment, and Ginny realized she'd been staring. The blush rose quickly on her cheeks.

"Nothing. You just look different, is all."

Malfoy snorted. "I look _poor_ you mean."

"I was thinking more along the lines of _normal_ as opposed to the regular 'minion of Satan' look you've been harboring the past few years."

"I'm a Malfoy. Malfoy's have never been _normal_," he sneered.

"Oh, so insanity really does run in your family, does it?"

"Not as strongly as poverty in yours."

_Ouch_. Ginny frowned, trying to think of something remotely witty to say. Unfortunately, sometimes Malfoy's comments pulled the rug out from under her feet- especially when they were about her family.

"We're feeding you, aren't we?"

"Did you want something?"

"I-"

**BANG.**

The shot rang through the house, shuddering the foundations. Silence hung horribly in the air. Ginny's mouth shut, and she looked at Malfoy in alarm. He looked just as surprised.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"I don't know."

**BANG**.

And then, there were voices- none she recognized. Draco, however, knew them all too well…

"Fuck," he hissed, grabbing her hand. "We've got to get out of here."

"What?" But he was already pulling her out of the room. The pounding was getting louder as they ran down the hallway. Then the shouting began. She could hear the roar of spell work and curses being sent as they came nearer to the center of the house.

She was scared. Completely, utterly, and terrifyingly scared.

Ginny could feel the blood rushing through her, pounding painfully in her chest. She knew what was happening, and she didn't want to believe it."

"Where's the Order?" Malfoy demanded over his shoulder and Ginny looked at him in horror.

How could she be so stupid! Here she was, trapped in a house currently under attack, and she was letting herself be dragged off by a _Death Eater_!

A Death Eater who had no doubt lead the rest of them straight here.

She let out a strangled cry and tried to pull away. He seemed surprised for a moment, but only held her wrist tighter.

"Let me go!" she shouted, pulling harder. She needed to get away from him- far away from him. She reached into her dress pocket, ready to take out her wand, but was alarmed to find it missing. Down the hallway, just six feet behind him, her wand lay carelessly on the ground.

Panic stung in her chest. She pulled again.

"Weasley, stop! We've got to get out of here!"

"Let me go, you bastard! I can't believe my father trusted you-"

Draco stopped tugging her for a moment. "Is that what you think?"

"LET ME GO!"

But he didn't. Instead he grabbed onto her shoulders, looking intently down at her. She could hear the roar of a battle around them, just behind the walls. But for now, they were alone in the corridor. She knew it wouldn't be for long.

"Look, Weasley- Ginny," he said pleadingly. "You've got to believe me. I had _nothing_ to do with this. Nothing. And I can get us out of here if you just _trust_ me."

_Why should I!_ It was the response Ginny was ready to bite out, but when she looked up at his gray eyes (had they always been gray?), she could not help but notice the sheer desperation she saw there. For someone who normally kept himself so carefully guarded, the sight of him the least bit vulnerable was disturbing. There was only truth there- no lies. And helplessly, she found herself nodding to his wishes.

"Where's the Order?" he asked again.

"In the dining room, at the end of the hall."

"Let's go."

"My wand-"

**BANG.**

The wall beside them blew open, a figure coming through it to be thrown against the opposite wall.

"Dad!" Ginny exclaimed, finally breaking through Draco's grip and rushing to him. Her wand was nowhere in sight. "Dad, are you alright!"

Arthur, it seemed, was too badly hurt to move. A trail of blood dripped from his lips and from his temple. He looked up at his daughter and Draco with urgency. "Ginny, thank Godric-"

"Dad, what's going on!"

"No time! Take this!" he handed Ginny had thick, dirty envelope from his pocket. "You need to get out of here and take this to Neville-"

"But Dad, what about-"

"Out through the servant's passage. No magic- get to London and find Neville. Both of you! Go!"

Draco pulled Ginny off her knees quickly. "Come on, you heard the man! We've got to go!"

Ginny looked down at her father, barely feeling the tears streaming down her face. "But we've got to help-"

"_Tsk, tsk, Arthur. No rest for the weary_." There was someone coming through the rubble of the wall, and Ginny had a feeling it was no one good.

"Come on!" Draco hissed. "I am not about to sit around here and die!"

"Ginny, go!" Arthur croaked, waving them off.

"_Who's that you're talking to Arthur, dear?_ _Another friend of yours? Perhaps you'd introduce us…"_

"Daddy, I love you," Ginny choked, clutching the envelope to her chest.

"Go!" he said again. Ginny nodded, gripping Draco's hand tightly. And they were off, running hard down the hallway. This time she was leading the way, heading straight for the servant's panel she knew would lead them out into the garden.

Behind, she swore she heard her father yell after them, though Draco would always deny it later.

"Take care of her, Malfoy!"

**XXX**


End file.
